That's All
by SFGrl
Summary: Who is sick of me torturing Chandler? Me! Me! Great, then this one's for you. (Season 10, CM){Complete}


**AN: This takes place sometime in Season 10.**

****

**_~That's All~_**

_If you're wondering what I'm asking in return, dear,_

_You'll be glad to know that my demands are small._

_Say it's me that you'll adore,_

_For now and evermore_

_That's all,_

_That's all_.

She groaned, and rolled over, trying to convince herself that it wasn't really morning, and that she didn't have to be at work in 90 minutes.

She pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders, and reached toward the other side of the bed.

Empty.

She lifted her head, and opened one eye slowly, then the other.

_Where was he?_

It was still early—too early, especially for her indolent husband.  Sighing heavily, she rolled to her side, and reluctantly pulled herself from the warm confines of her soft bed.

She stood, and ignored the creaks her body made as she stretched slowly.  She turned, and stared longingly at her bed, and wondered why it was so hard for her to wake up these days.  Usually, she was up and making breakfast before anyone else even stirred—but over the last few weeks, she had been finding it increasingly difficult to pull herself out of bed in the morning.

She actually knew why, of course.  The reason made her smile sleepily, and wrap her arms protectively around her ever-swelling belly.

A baby.  They were having a baby!

She closed her eyes, turned, and sat on the edge of the bed, her small smile gradually growing to a full-fledged grin.

They had been trying for so long.  They had been told that the odds were against them, and that they should give up.

They didn't.  Both proud, both determined, they put all that they had into making their dream come true.

And three months ago, it had paid off.  The baby was healthy, the mother exhausted, and the father…

Well, she'd never seen him so excited about anything in her life.

He was determined to turn the guest room into the 'coolest baby room ever'.  She was a little nervous about letting him decorate the nursery, but he had insisted; she wasn't allowed near paint fumes, he'd said, and besides, it would prove that she trusted him.

She had relented, finally, when he had promised that it would not be 'Star Wars' themed, and that it would suit both their tastes.

It was a new thing for her; this idea that she had to let some things go; that she couldn't control every little thing, and that above all, she had to trust her husband.

And she did.  She knew that he knew that she would kill him if he did anything too outlandish in there.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," Chandler's soft voice pulled her from her reverie.  She opened her eyes to see him standing in the doorway of their bedroom, donned in khaki cargo shorts and a ratty gray NYU t-shirt.  Both were speckled in pale yellow paint, just like his face and hair.  A smudge of paint covered the tip of his nose, and the bottom half of his right ear.  Monica giggled.  He was just adorable.

"Good morning, painter-Jack," Monica laughed, and stood slowly.

"There's some breakfast set out for you over at Joey's.  Don't worry, he's not there, so the food still should be," Chandler grinned, and planted a short kiss on Monica's nose.

"Why is it over there?" Monica yawned, and followed Chandler into the living room, where every window was open, letting in a cool morning draft.  She turned back into their room and grabbed her robe, slipping into it as Chandler opened the front door and turned.

"The paint fumes are pretty noxious today," Chandler replied, "And I don't wanna risk anything," he whispered, as Monica approached.  He placed his hand on her stomach, and grinned broadly.

"And you call me the worry-wart," Monica laughed, and walked into Joey's apartment.

"Well, he must have come home between auditions," Chandler sighed as he looked at the stack of empty breakfast plates, the disappointment evident in his voice.

"Aw, it's okay sweetie.  I can make something.  Besides, I have to get ready for work."

"Work?  Can't you call in sick?  I have the day off, and I have to let this coat dry…we could spend the day together, just you and me," Chandler batted his best puppy-dog eyes at her dramatically.

Monica smiled.  She really didn't want to go in anyway, and Chandler was just killing her with his cuteness today.

"Fine, but you owe me one, Bing," Monica said with mock-sternness, and led Chandler back into their apartment.

*

"Babe, look at that," Chandler said in a half-whisper, as he pointed toward a woman pushing a large Eddie Bauer suede stroller down the street, "now _that_ is a stroller!"

Monica laughed so hard she nearly dropped her ice cream cone on the sidewalk.

"What?  What's so funny?" Chandler stopped and looked at Monica crossly.

"Oh, honey I'm sorry, I just—well that woman was really—how should I say this—_well_ _endowed_, not to mention drop dead _gorgeous_, and _you _are looking at her _stroller_?" Monica laughed again.

"Hey, a guy can change…besides, I read about that model—did you know that there are shocks on it?  It would be perfect for these little park strolls," Chandler grinned, and snaked his arm around Monica's waist, as they continued their walk.

"Ross and Rachel would be _sooo_ jealous of our awesome stroller," Monica said after a short minute.

"That's my girl!" Chandler laughed, as they made their way home.

*

Monica crawled into bed, and snuggled down under the covers.  She smiled slightly, as the events—or rather, nonevents—of the day replayed in her mind.  It had been a while since she and Chandler had spent the entire day together, just the two of them, doing nothing, really.  Her smile faded slightly, when she recalled that Chandler was now across the hall at Joey's, and not here with her.  He had left about twenty minutes ago, saying that he needed to talk to Joey about something.  But _their_ day wasn't totally over—was he just sick of her?  Too much _Monica_ for one day?  _That's your hormones talking,_ she told herself, and rolled to her side.

Moments later, she heard the apartment door open, followed shortly by their bedroom door.  She looked up at Chandler as he fumbled across the darkened room, trying his damndest not to make any noise, but managing to make more noise in the process.  She heard him kick the chair, and curse softly.

"You okay, honey?" she mumbled.

"Yeah, sorry babe, go back to sleep," Chandler whispered through his evident pain.

"It's alright, I'm not asleep.  Why didn't you hang out at Joey's longer?"

"I didn't want to hang there too long…_our_ day's not _quite_ over, and I only went there to berate him for eating your breakfast.  But he kept going _on and on_ about some 'chick' he met at the grocery store," Chandler laughed, and slipped into bed.

Monica smiled, as Chandler wrapped his arms around her, placing his hands protectively on her belly.

"I love you," she whispered, as he dozed off.

"I love you too," he mumbled sleepily.

"So, the room's gonna be yellow?  Really?"

Chandler sighed, and Monica grinned.

"Monica, trust me…you'll _love_ it."

"Yeah, I know, but it wouldn't be a full day in the Bing household if I didn't whine about the nursery just once."

"That is true," Chandler sighed playfully.  He sat up slightly so that he could look at her.  She turned over, and looked up at him curiously.

"I swear Mon, it's gonna be amazing," he said quietly.

She smiled, and wrapped her arm around his neck, as he leaned forward and kissed her forehead, and right eyelid.

"It already is," she whispered in sweet reply.

_I can only give you love that lasts forever,_

_And a promise to be near each time you call._

_And the only heart I own_

_For you and you alone_

_That's all,_

_That's all_

_I can only give you country walks in springtime_

_And a hand to hold when leaves begin to fall;_

_And a love whose burning light_

_Will warm the winter night_

_That's all,_

_That's all._

_There are those I am sure who have told you,_

_They would give you the world for a toy._

_All I have are these arms to enfold you,_

_And a love time can never destroy._

_If you're wondering what I'm asking in return, dear,_

_You'll be glad to know that my demands are small._

_Say it's me that you'll adore,_

_For now and evermore_

_That's all,_

_That's all._

_If you're wondering what I'm asking in return, dear,_

_You'll be glad to know that my demands are small._

_Say it's me that you'll adore,_

_For now and evermore_

_That's all,_

_That's all._

_("That's All" by Alan Brandt, Bob Haymes)_

**AN: Geez, that was pure sap.  It's actually a little too sweet, kinda like the Thai Iced Tea I had at lunch.  The waitress went a little crazy with the cream, lol.  Okay, no one cares.**

**So there you go, a one-part, sweet thing that involved absolutely no Chandler-torture whatsoever.  Well, he did stub his toe, but come on, compared to what I normally do to the guy…**

**Anyway, review please…thanks!!**


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